Category: Life

Half a year has gone by. You have someone beside you, happier and living your life.

I do not think about you as much as I used to

As much as I want to write that sentence, I would lie to you. And to myself.

I still think about you. Not in the way how would it turn out differently, me and you happy together. Nothing like that, not ever again. The truth is, we are just like hell and heaven, we have nothing in common, we almost never agree on anything. If not, only one thing that we shared, we are agree to disagree.

I still think about you, I mean about our time. The time when you spent the night at my place, the time when you play the new HBO series and you pour the white wine into my glass. The time when I was in your place and watching the musical you like so much. Singing each words, surprisingly, you hit the notes correctly. What cannot you do exactly?

I still think about you, precisely when we were together, not together as couple or partner ( i do not dare to think such anymore) but just hanging out, spending each other times. When you talk about your family and your studies. When you talked about your last relationship. When we slept next to each other and talking and fell asleep. How you like to spoon someone next to you. Surprisingly, I liked it.

I still think about it, about what you felt, not towards me because I know clearly now. But how you felt at those moments we were together. How were you? Were you happy? Were you sad? Did you feel comfort? Did you feel unease? I think about such shenanigans a lot. Turn out maybe I am a monster. An insensitive monster that never really think about how you feel, egoistic because I didn't really hear what you want. I didn't care about your sincere emotion.

Did I have your consent, when I kissed you in your green sofa? Did I have your consent as I lied my head inside your embrace? Did I have your consent as I unbutton your shirt slowly and passionately? Did I have your consent when I cared your back, your chest. As I kissed your neck bones and slowly going up to your neck, your chin and your lips? Did I?

You must feel ashamed, disgusted and defensive. Slowly towards me. That's why i keep thinking about you, I'm so sorry, I wasn't really sensitive about your feeling and I'm sorry if I had embrace you without your consent. I'm sorry and I am too disgusted with myself.

I still think about it, about what you felt, about you and I mean about our time together. I feel disgusted about it, about what you felt and about our time together. I'm sorry, you deserve better not a monster like I am. I'm sorry.

I heard the last piece of art for today, the symphony from Tschaikovsky, I reflect to my own story. Here I am sitting with a wonderful cultivated man beside, sitting on the top of the podium, while writing this for you to read never. I see the one who were was the joy of and the sound of my day. Beside him sitting his new beau. I heard a lot about his new beau, but now i see it with my own eye. The letter that Tschaikovsky wrote to his friend reflected through his symphony. The burden of hiding sorrow overwhelms and comes through in his first act of Symphonie. The society he lived in, was not much of a change to the current society situation. He had to succumb his own despair and sadness. This was not because, he couldn't show it but because the society didn't want to see sorrow. The saddest part of it, he had to wrap it with in another sorrow, disguised by the name of marriage. I can see myself sharing the same emotion. I can see myself walking on his shoes. The joy, the disappointment, the despair of love. Love that couldn't dare to speak itself

Written while attending Aachener Studentenorchester on 13th of July 2017 listening on Brahm's Violin Concert D-Dur op. 77

It was still awkward and still nothing like before that "spill the coffee" accident. You were still starring into me with those goddamn beautiful blue eyes and I am still captivated in the deep of the ocean I saw. You still talking casually about your dream and future and little bit here and there about our past and I'm still deciphering every words and every action you did, trying to make nothing anything. With everything that I have, I'm trying to get over it; trying to move on and going on with my life. So far it is a slow progress. I'm still trying to stand on my own to feet. Slowly but sure.

You still have that skill, captivating me, word by word and I'm still trying to hide the fact that I kinda still wondering the "what if" possibilities.

"What if I met you few months back?""What if I didn't to pushy?"What if I didn't expect more than what we have?""What if I'm just grateful with what we shared?""What if I wasn't too greedy and egoistic?""What if I just giving up myself and waited for you?""What if I..?""What if?"

Just like you know how to read my mind, out of the blue you said…

"things will turned out differently, if we met few months back…" you said with a little laughter and strange mimic i couldn't decipher.

Are you being serious? Are you joking? Only heaven and hell know. Maybe you don't even know what you are saying, maybe you don't even care.

I gave nothing but a gaze, looking for little something that could help me to understand you.

How many months has it passed by? How many lovers declared their love and running away? Things should have been going back to normal, we shouldn't be awkward anymore. I should not be awkward anymore.

The first one hour was difficult for me. I didn't where to see, I didn't know how to behave, I didn't know how to respond you. The meet you again after this long time and after our seperation is strange. We ended thing little too harsh, no notice and cold end. For me to see you again and pretend that nothing ever happen is difficult. However, it is not the case for you. You talked Bahasa Indonesia with that funny impression, you still made that cringe jokes, you still had that tease and flirt and laughed. You are still you. Nothing seems have changed within you, apparently I changed much much more than you. As if I am a complete new person with you, but not in the good way.

Every night I wake up with heavy breathing and tears in my eyes. My dreams are always the same. Your eyes, your lips, and your smile are pictured perfectly in my head and it feels real. As soon as I wake up, however, it vanishes. I cannot picture it anymore. The picture gets hazy and covered by grief and lost. So, here I am, in my dark cold room, wondering where did I go wrong? Rewinding every memory I can remember, searching for my mistake. Could it be something that I said? – or is it something, that I didn’t say? Could it be something that I did? Something I didn’t do? Either way, I cannot find it out. No matter how hard I try to rationalize this, it is always my fault.

„Let it go“ – they say. Words are easily spoken, action, however, is harder to perform. I am hanging in between two fights, to let your spirit go away or to keep you in my heart? The faster I can choose between this option, the lighter my heart will be. Though, I am not the one who is holding the last card. I cannot choose, or truth to be told, I do not want to choose, not until you close the door and close it completely. If there is no clean cut, I will be always held on to that tiny – unrealistic—hope that you do still want me by your side and that maybe you acknowledge my presence. I will always hold on to that hope until I wear out my energy and become numb in the process.

I still hope your leaving was only the nightmare. The nightmare, I could wake up out of it pretty soon.

I am sorry, it is not you – it is me. I’m an overthinker.

Let us just be a ghost to each other. Let us just be a ghost to our past. I’ll let your ghost creeping inside my daydream and nightmare. Moreover, I’ll let your ghost disappears into the ether without any explanation – because maybe I’m worth none.

It was always being a day like this, where I’ll wandering with lots of thought. After that brief encounter, the feelings I have for you, it all mixed into one. What was that? So many questions pop into my head, uncluttered in the back of my mind. Right now, I cannot declutter it and once again you had me.

I wish I can talk it out with you, I wish I can be as nonchalant as you, as unburden as you, as cool as you or so it seems from the outside. I know my face made a weird gimmick when I saw you. At the second, I felt warm in my heart, I wanted to say hello, to ask how you doing, how were your papers, but I guess you didn’t want to encounter anyone right now, me in particularly and my ride arrived.

I remembered seeing you with a beautiful blond young woman, you were happy chatting with her. It might be nothing, but I was impulsive and took it as a sign, maybe this is it. The end of something, which never started.

I felt sadness, grieve and cold air between us. My cheeks burned, I wanted to cry, I wanted to grab you by the hand and invited you for a coffee or a hot cocoa, because I’d always want to share a cup of hot cocoa with you on this rainy day, but I had a feeling you don’t want to see me nor you want to have to do with me anymore.

Maybe my desire to closeness terrorized you, made you uneasy therefore you are slowly avoiding me. If it is so, I’m truly sorry, it was not my intention to make you anxious.

There’s something about the rain or the stormy weather that makes me melancholy but I find serenity in it. As if it washes my burden away, makes it all clear.

So maybe this “hello” or “hi” was our goodbye? At least I saw you that day and at least I had all the western world.

For all the hopeless romantic who is slowly losing their hope. Please don’t!
Please stay in your hopeless romantic nature and show us, monster, that life is love and it’s one of the greatest emotion you could feel on earth.

I was a hopeless romantic once. I used to believe in love at the first sight, the right person, and a soulmate. I used to believe once you were married, there will be no divorce, you’ll stay with your partner in happily ever after. Once you were married, you’ll always love your partner in health and sick, in poor and arm. Once you were committed, you’ll stay committed, moreover when you already have a cute daughter and a handsome boy together. But life has had another plan for you, you’ll separate with your 16 years, high school sweetheart. The passionate, crazy, heavenly love you used to tell your children slowly becoming unbearable toxic and I-despise-you hate. All the moaning at night turned slowly into scream and shout and broken dishes. But I still wanted to believe in love and romantic.

I was a hopeless romantic once, I used to believe that life revolves around love, love for nature, love for the aesthetic, love for arts and love for living beings. Especially love in the human relationship. I used to believe romanticism is the only way you show your affection gracefully and in full nurture. That boys and girls, youngs or adults should express themselves because their feelings and emotion will be accepted and returned or at least appreciated. Life is a funny thing, when everything we believe starting to feel like a fairy tale and fall into places, that’s when life shows us, there’s the opposite than what we have faith on. But I know deep down I still had believed in love and romantic.

I was a hopeless romantic once. Until life showed me that love is not always pure, naive and sentimental. Love could be bitter, hard and painful. Love could be unrequited, love is deceitful, full of tricks and mind games. Love is there because you don’t want to be alone. Love is using you until you find another one that can satisfy what your needs, love will be there kissing your forehead every night and keep you warm just when they needed you, but they still keeping their eyes open in case there’s someone better than you. Love is just an illusion to comfort you in a cold heartless world, love will blind you and give you the impression that there will be a pot of gold by the end of this rainbow when it’s actually another highway to hell. Yet I still want to believe in love and romantic. I still want to believe that out there someone is having the pure, naive, couldn’t-live-without-each-other love, the kind of love I used to think I had. I envy them for still having this naive feeling, but I am happy for them. I wish them to have it a little longer than I. I wish them to cherish it and hold it as long as they can. But love has been my painful memories. It left its marked deep and painful in every inch of my body, leaving a scar I cannot heal, an addiction I cannot cure.

For the hopeless romantic out there, please don’t lose your hope. Don’t fall into a living hell pit and turn into a monster who’ll just seek warm and comfort in others without having a mutual feeling. Please don’t turn into a monster, who already forgot how to fall in love, be in love and to be loved.
For the hopeless romantic out there, please show us how to love again. Please, teach us all about love, pure love that you believe in. That kind of romantic cheesy love all movies and books have been telling us all. We’ll laugh at you and tell you to be rational but please be patient with us, because we’re just a baby on this field. Teach us how to crawl, slowly, patiently. I’ll guarantee you, it will be worth it and maybe later we’ll walk side by side on this journey. Because then, once we start believing again, we’ll love like never been in love before.

That was his last word to me and at that moment I know that was our last time. That I won’t be seeing him again nor would I want to see him in a short time and that was our final chapter.

What we had wasn’t even real and I should have known that we couldn’t keep it like that. Maybe I was greedy and I was aware of that, but what I did not know, it would come to an end that fast. We met and we said goodbye. That was it. Period. Just like a line, what met in intersection and never will meet again.

It was first day of summer, or was it? I don’t really remember. Do you see? I don’t even remember anymore how or when we met. That should be a sign enough, to let me know that ahead we will be separated by a fucking big junction. From that on what I still remember is our good time. Fun time. Fuck it just called it summer fling.

We explored our sexuality openly. He opened a door for me so I could exploring thing I have never explored before. He lets me in and showed me what I could do, what I’m capable of, what he was capable of. It was like a drug for me, I couldn’t have enough of it. I was happy, you see at that moment I was alive. Never have I ever been that happy. Never have I ever tasted a drug like his drug. Slowly I was addicted to it. I wanted more even though I know what we had, was a problem. You see, I got a boyfriend and he had his ‘girlfriend’. But still we kept playing this game of two.

My friend told me to be careful because when you play with fire, you could get burned. “Sweetheart, you have to be careful. Don’t let a good fuck think you’re in love.” I should listened to her, I should stop it while I can. But I’m a junkie, as he always called me when I had my second cigarettes. I am a junkie, yes I was a junkie, who couldn’t get enough from his poisonous elixir. Greedy is such an ugly so sin. You want something that you don’t have, you demand something you know you cannot get. In the end you will get hurt by your greediness.

I know he met her long before he met me, but tell me couple of things. Is she lovely? Does she care about him? Does she fuck him better than me? He knows I’m right here, beside him and she’s there thousand miles away from you. I have been in that kind relationship, it sucked. It sucked your energy and your emotion. Is he really sure that was what he wants? Didn’t he tell me not so long ago, love and relationship were not his things? That he probably wasn’t capable of such emotion. Wasn’t what we have was great? No emotion, no string attached, just us and his bed?

Such a pity, just for a moment I enjoyed it with no regret or no hesitation. Turn out of the blue, he had someone beside him. Left me alone in this dark room and he knows how I hate dark room. I hope he saw my face and it reminded him the time we had earlier, the sweet play we played, the secret language that we spoke.

But you know, I wished him the best. I was happy he found what he wasn’t even look at first.